The daylight had entirely failed by the time we reached the cell where Adderfang lay. We were met at the door by a Carmelite priest, who appeared in great wrath, and muttered something about a "Heretico condeñado." We entered. It was an apartment of the same kind as the one in which Lennox had been confined, and had a low pallet on one side, fronting the high iron-barred window. From the darkness I could merely make out that some person lay on the bed, writhing about, apparently in great pain. A candle was brought, and we could see about us. It shone brightly on the person of a tall bushy-whiskered desperado, who lay on the bed, covered by a sheet, groaning and breathing very heavily. I approached; his features were very sharp and pale, his lips black, and his beard unshaven; his eyes were shut, and his long hair spread all over the pillow. He appeared to be attended by a slight, most beautiful Spanish girl; apparently a fair mulatto, who was sitting at the head of the bed, brushing away the musquittoes, and other night flies, with a small bunch of peacock's feathers; while the hot tears trickled down her cheeks, and over her quivering lips, until they fell on her distracted and heaving bosom. But she was silent; her sobs were even inaudible; her grief was either too deep for utterance, or the fear of disturbing the dying moments of her lover made her dumb. "O, Woman! in our hours of ease, Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, And variable as the shade By the light quivering aspen made; When pain and anguish wring the brow, A ministering angel thou!" Hearing a bustle in the room, Adderfang now spoke, in a low and interrupted voice--it was in Spanish. "Padre, do not persist--I do not want your services--you cannot smooth my pillow--do not therefore try to strew more thorns there--Heaven knows they are numerous enough, and sharp enough already." "Can this be the villain who stabbed me?" said I, somewhat moved. The poor girl at this stooped down, and whispered something into his ear. "Ah!" said he, "I had forgot--I had forgot; but your tears scald me, Antonia--hot--hot;" and with a sudden effort, as if ashamed to evince how much he was suffering, and a fierce energy, he controlled the twitching of his feverish limbs, clasped his hands on his bosom, and opening his blood-shot eyes for the first time, took a steady survey of us. He then glanced to the jailer. "This is the gentleman who was stabbed by you," said the Spaniard. He nodded. "This is the English marine, Lennox, who came up with the guard and took you prisoner."